My Sins
by miss latvia
Summary: Everyone he loved paid for his sins, and it was about time he atoned for what he caused.


**MY SINS**  
**Author: **Raychcons  
**Pairing:** Ed/Roy, Ed Centric?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings: **Language  
**Genre:** Angst/Romance  
**Summary:** Everyone he loved paid for his sins, and it was about time he atoned for what he caused.

Everyone I love suffers for the mistakes I made.

My mother was a walking time bomb, waiting to explode with the rage hidden beneath her. She had no soul - was she really even Trisha anymore? - But she could still feel. And she wanted me dead, to punish me for what I did to her. I didn't mean to, but that's no excuse.

Alphonse, my very own younger brother. He had his body ripped away from him in the most painful way because _I _convinced him that we could do this, that it was all true and real and perfect. If it hadn't been for me, then maybe he would be a happy young teenager, falling in love for the first time, not having to worry about the fact that he's not human anymore, and might never be again.

I'm not a child now. I don't believe in all those stories that everything will be alright in the end. In reality, they're untrue - not real. It took me too long to realise that, and now I have lost everything.

I loved a man once. Hard to believe, I know, but in our society, it was acceptable. We were looked upon fondly by anyone who saw us. He loved me, and I loved him. It was perfection, and beauty, and love and everything wonderful that a person could feel.

It was nice while it lasted.

He was shot. His eye, now covered with an eye patch, hidden away from the world. And it was my fault. The resurrection of my mother… The creation of the homunculi, their games and plans to make him follow the chain of lies and falsehoods about that red stone, their war, their pain, their evil… It was all his fault.

And now I can't look Roy in the face, knowing that I had caused the man I loved to go through this pain.

He said it was 'okay', but what does that mean anyway? It is not a word, it has no true meaning. And when he said it, it was cold, distant… And I had left. Left to go and hide in a corner and cry, knowing now that his love had turned into hate, another punishment for my sins.

They all followed me now, on the 'General's' orders, of course. Mustang was worried that I might kill myself. He had seen the look in my eyes, the lost, soulless look.. The same look my mother had when we brought her back.. The same look that monster had. Cold, empty.. Lifeless. He was worried that I would die and save him the pleasure, I suppose. I don't know - I can't know . That would imply we had any relationship, any love at all.

I won't kill myself. There are too many people out there that want to do it, one day one of them will find me, and then, then, I won't put up a fight. Not anymore, I don't have the strength.

Everyone calls me 'The People's Alchemist'. I'm not. Everything I did was so that I could gather information on the red stone. There was nothing else to it. And now, I am paying the price I should have paid years ago, letting the pain was over me as I sit against this tree.

He's watching me. His dark eyes - eye! - his gazing with a soft, sultry look that I just know yearns to reach out and do something, but I don't understand. He never looked at me this way. The sunset is beautiful today - perhaps he stares at that. Mustang was always a man who liked the beauty in life.

Which is why he didn't choose me. Which is why he is watching from a distance.

But why.. Why is he walking closer? What is he doing? His hand, reaching out to mine..

No! I don't want it, I don't want your pity, your fear, your anger.. I just want you.. But you don't realise that, do you?  
You don't realise.

The crunch of grass under his foot is almost hypnotising, and I don't dare look up at him, the fear - pain, sorrow, loneliness, and oh, the wonderful scent that was Roy - taking over me as I stared. There wasn't much to say between us, and he just shrugged. I turned away.

Neither of us were good at apologising. I didn't know what to say - he did, but would he tell me?

Fuck no.

But he sat beside me, and his hand reached out, and brushed my fake - horrible, scarred, dirty, disfigured - hand, and he brought it to his lips, and kissed it. And I looked at him, and smiled, and moved forward. My lips pressed against the dark black of his eye patch, and we both knew then.

We accepted each other.

It was okay.


End file.
